Weekend in Weighton Final Amazon version 12-12-12 (30 page)

Fate and I were back in talks. Should I wait to see if Jimmy got to the bridge first? Even if he did, I still didn’t know what he’d do? Would he order one of his other boys to jump onto the boat? Or would he observe and move on, counting on an interception at the landing station? Even if Mickey or Keith made the jump, Jimmy would still have to collect his prize at the pontoon. I could maybe risk leaving my swallow dive to the last second and keep my options open a little longer, but since there were three of them it was possible they might station someone on the riverbank, ready to hook me out.

Queen’s Bridge was now near enough I could see it without hanging over the side. A little over five minutes and we’d be cruising under it. I looked back to my left but couldn’t see Jimmy’s car on the embankment. That meant it had cut inland to join the road that went over the bridge. It wouldn’t be long.

Before I could change my field of vision, something caught my eye. A red Polaris jet ski pulled level with the boat, the whine of its two-stroke engine clear above the drone of the showboat. Diffy was waving at me frantically, his long ginger hair flopping in the slipstream. All the while he was mouthing “scoo–ter” and gesticulating with his non-throttle hand. He clearly hadn’t forgotten about his wheels. For once that was good news.

It wouldn’t be unkind to describe the Diffster as an ugly git, but right then I could have happily kissed him. Springing off my seat, I raced to the side of the boat. Having levered myself high enough, I stretched up and straddled the grab rail, even though the buffeting of the wind made it difficult to balance. I grinned at Diffy and motioned for him to come closer. When he looked puzzled, I pulled the scooter keys from my pocket, dangled them in the breeze in front of him, then put them back and patted my jacket. He looked at me like I was a Jack Sparrow apparition, all the while chuntering away.

Most of the passengers on the upper deck were staring at me again, but the little boy was laughing. I gave my recently acquainted seafarer chum a bow. ‘My work here is done.’ Trying not to tip over, I assigned him a courteous wave. ‘Until we meet on stranger tides. Adios, amigo.’

He half waved back before his mum pulled his hand down.

The Polaris eased alongside the boat until it was only inches away. As Diffy got level with me, he held out his hand. I swung my leg over the side of the boat, reached for him, and we locked wrists. Taking a short leap, and using Diffy as a counterweight, I landed safely on the back of the jet ski. As quickly as I dared, I reached behind and curled both hands around the rear pillion grip-bar. No stunt man required.

As Diffy steered us back into open water, I leaned in as close as I could and shouted in his ear. ‘How fast can this go?’

‘Sixty-five,’ he shouted.

‘Hit it. I’m in a hurry.’

‘Where’s my fucking scooter?’

‘As soon as we get to sixty-five, I’ll tell you.’

The Polaris thumped into the water as we accelerated, its bow wave growing like a mini-tsunami. The wind-rush blasted through my hair and kept me pinned to the seat.

I tapped Diffy on his hitherto broken arm. ‘The miracle of modern medicine, hey?’

He tilted his head slightly. ‘Insurance job.’ Diffy rubbed his thumb against his finger. ‘Money in the bank.’

Checking the gauges over Diffy’s shoulder, I saw the speedo dial hovering in the red section. A plume of water spouted from the back of the Polaris as we raced under Queen’s Bridge. There was no sign of Jimmy.

Skimming over the water the other side of the bridge, I couldn’t resist a look behind. I soon wished I hadn’t. Jimmy’s car had jolted to a stop on the elevated road section, but at least the gang was looking in the other direction, eyes still on the “Mark Twain”. Just before I turned back I noticed Keith taking an interest in the jet ski. I ducked my head behind Diffy and wondered if he’d seen me. I didn’t think so, but either way, I’d still have to find a way to outmanoeuvre them. The casino owner in Jimmy would play the percentages. He’d want to drop one of his guys onto the boat at the same time as being quayside in time for a “Mark Twain” reception party. That meant I couldn’t risk landing at the same place as the boat.

As we blasted around the next river bend, the Old Bridge came into view. Alongside it stood the Town Hall. So near, and yet …

The showboat’s landing pontoon was on the left in front of the bridge. Eight or nine hundred yards before that, on the same side, I saw a series of jetties. I dug my thumb into Diffy’s shoulder and pointed at the first one.

‘Diffy, can you drop me there?’

‘What about my scooter?’

‘I need to talk to you about that.’

He nodded and banked the jet ski to his left, heading for the Weighton side of the river. Diffy held on to a mooring post as I climbed off the Polaris onto the jetty. Even though he’d killed the engine, my ears were still buzzing. I had to seesaw my head to relieve the noise. The rush of water down my back meant I was soaking wet, too. I twisted my T-shirt into a knot to squeeze out the brown river water. The little puddle that collected between my trainers smelt like fish soup from the Peking Palace.

‘Cheers, Diff. You’re a missile man.’

‘You owe me a beer.’

I cupped a hand to the side of my face. ‘My ears are ringing. Did you just say I owe you?

He gave an emphatic nod.

‘Right, let’s do the math, shall we?’ I smoothed out the knot in my shirt. ‘How many tiebreakers have I won for you this season? Concentrate now, because here comes the science bit.’ Counting on my fingers I went all the way to eight. ‘That’s payback, my friend, right there.’

He folded his arms, not giving up. ‘You still owe me a scooter. What’ve you done with it?’

‘We’re back to that old chestnut, hey. Let me tell you, not only is it safe and well, it’s within a shout of where we are standing.’

‘Show me.’

I bent down and patted his cheek. ‘You know I love ya, Diff, right?’ He went to speak, but I held up a finger and nodded his head for him. ‘No need to speak. I know you know. But here’s the thing. I have a desperate, urgent and present need for your scooter.’

‘How come?’

‘Confucius say some things not explainable. A.k.a., you’ll have to trust me.’

He looked me up and down, his brow creasing with concern. ‘You’re soaked. You’ll ruin the electrics.’

I squeezed his shoulder. ‘I love that scooter almost as much as I love you. Which is why I will bring it to your house, tomorrow, in tip-top, A1 condition. Trust me, Diff.’

‘Tomorrow, then?’

‘Yes, the day that comes after today.’ I stood and began to walk backwards down the jetty. ‘I have to go. I’m late for a funeral.’

‘Dressed like that?’

‘Invite said smart casual.’ I stretched out my soggy T-shirt and watched it shrink back to where it was. After an appreciative nod, I turned up my jacket collar. ‘What can I tell you? It all works.’

‘But you can’t go sopping wet.’

I winked. ‘A water polo teammate. It’s what he would have wanted.’

I gave Diffy a big salute, turned and powered into a sprint. I ran all the way to Castle Towers, my progress remarkably unhindered for once. Diffy’s scooter still rested where I had left it on Saturday evening. To me it seemed a long time ago, but records would show the earth had only turned once since then.

I unlocked the top box and pulled out Diffy’s flame-streaked retro helmet, then plonked it on my head. With no time to buckle, I clambered aboard the RV, fired it up, and zapped out of the car park. Five straights, four turns and I’d be at the Town Hall. I had no doubt the Nkongos would still be waiting.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Sunday – 18:24

Barton Street was snarled with traffic. The usual story: roadworks but no sign of anyone working. Even a scooter couldn’t thread through the maze of cars. And after my promise to Diffy, I didn’t want to risk his paintwork. I ducked out of the queue and took a shortcut through the park, flipping out on Eaton Square by the Town Hall. With no time to worry about pretty parking, I saw a gap and pulled in.

Eaton Square wasn’t exactly bustling, but it was busy enough to give me cover, and the cluster of security cameras provided extra insurance. All part of the plan I’d used to convince Kate. I rested the scooter on its stand and had a good look around. My eyes tracked from the far end of the square all the way to the Town Hall – for once I smiled with relief. Maybe someone was finally watching over me. The Nkongos were still in play, and there was no sign of Jimmy or his hoods.

The brothers were sitting at the top of the Town Hall steps with arms crossed and chests slumped over knees. Their faces suggested a whiff of sour milk on the breeze, and their eyes darted to all points of the compass. I saw them browsing in my direction but not taking any real interest. It was only when I peeled back my helmet that they did a double take, their expressions flipping on the rebound. They stood straight away and bustled down the steps towards me. I finished stowing my helmet and met them as they got to the pavement. Robert looked pumped, and Kip’s expression hadn’t changed one degree since our earlier clash.

‘Is there a problem?’ asked Robert.

‘I’m fine. Thanks for asking.’

‘Well? Is there?’ His face rippled and set like a swirl of wax at the bottom of a burnt out candle. I shook my head.

‘Why are you late, then?’

‘The impossible takes time. Miracles take longer.’

 Kip came closer, confronting me. ‘Enough! Where is she?’

As he spoke, I remembered I hadn’t texted Kate. It was twenty-five minutes past the witching hour, and she’d had no word. How long would her nerve hold before she ‘fessed to Hobbs? Maybe they were already on their way. I needed to make sure.

‘She’s near,’ I said. ‘Waiting for a signal.’

‘A signal?’

‘That everything’s cool.’

Robert clamped a strong hand over my wrist. ‘Please go ahead.’

I carried out a big sweep of the Square and then nodded. ‘Yeah, everything looks cool.’

My phone felt damp when I took it out of my jacket. Glancing down I spotted water damage to the casing. Not a good sign. I stepped away from the brothers’ line of sight and tried to tap the screen to life, but it was blacked out. Exhibit A: one dead phone. I’d have to bluff and hope Kate was bringing the cavalry – like, soon.

I tapped once more, smiled confidently at the Nkongos and held the phone to my ear.

‘Hi Kate. Yeah, I’m cool. How’s my best girl?’ I winked at Kip. ‘That’s beautiful news. And the lovely Elaine? Excited? I bet she is. Yup, all good here.’ I angled the phone away from my ear and gave them the “OK” sign. ‘How long, Tinkerbell? Okay, see you soon. Yeah, love you too, hun. Kiss, kiss, baby.’

I finished the imaginary call and slid the phone back into my pocket. Robert stepped into my space, his eyes prompting.

I gave him a knowing nudge. ‘Babes. They love it, yeah.’

His expression remained stark. ‘How long?’

‘Soon. Very soon.’

Kip flicked at my upper arm. ‘How long exactly?’

‘A few minutes. Five tops.’

Kip stared at me, then addressed Robert. ‘He’s lying. I know it. He always lies.’

‘None taken, fellas.’

‘Well?’ asked Robert, to me. ‘Do you speak the truth?’